


The Thought That Counts

by ddagent



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Christmas Shopping, F/M, Flirting, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28388526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: Bodyguard Jaime Lannister reluctantly escorts his charge, heiress Brienne Tarth, Sevenmas shopping.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 34
Kudos: 220





	The Thought That Counts

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be small. Either way, here we are. It feels great to be writing again, even if I feel a bit rusty. I hope you enjoy it all the same!

Jaime stared, open-mouthed, as he watched two women wrestle over a gaming console. Swallowing, he turned to his charge. “Is this _really_ necessary, Ms Tarth?”

Lady Brienne Tarth, sole heir to the Sapphire Isle and VP of Tarth Limited, just nodded. Jaime found himself staring at the long expanse of her throat; how her lips pursed as she was once again left disappointed at the lack of merchandise. “It is necessary, Mister Lannister.”

“I thought I told you to call me Jaime.”

“And I thought I told _you_ to stop _moaning._ ”

He had, in fact, let out a litany of curses when Brienne had announced her intentions to go Sevenmas shopping that morning over breakfast. Jaime, already dressed in his three-piece suit with knife readily at hand, had pouted like a petulant child shoved into his best clothes to go to the Sept. Brienne had teased him mercilessly during the journey to the Street of Steel Shopping Centre. It was what they did: needled and teased until both of them were on a knife edge. This tension between them had been building for months: through the early spring of their acquaintance into the heat of summer before simmering through the warmth of a comfortable autumn.

Jaime only hoped it did not freeze over winter.

“ _Fine._ I’ll stop moaning. Just _advise_ you, _again,_ Ms Tarth, that this location is unpredictable and I may be unable to adequately protect you.”

“ _Fine,_ Mister Lannister.”

“I stopped moaning!”

“Your advice is worse,” Brienne said, heading out of the store empty-handed. “ _Jaime._ ”

He grinned and joined his charge in leaving the third-floor Game Town. All around them was a flurry of Sevenmas shoppers spending more money than sense on gifts people did not want or even need. They were desperate; their actions intense as they fought tooth and nail over the last scrap of merchandise on the shelves. Jaime didn’t even want to _venture_ into any of the toy shops. And those were the patrons willing to _pay_ for their gifts. Ahead of them, a young man ploughed through shoppers with stolen merchandise tucked underneath his arm; two of the City Watch hot on his heels.

Brienne, having made her list and now checking it twice, was right in his path. “Ms Tarth—”

“—I thought you agreed to stop moaning.”

“ _Brienne._ ”

She looked up sharply at the sound of her first name falling from his lips. But his warning came too late for Brienne to move of her own accord. Rushing forward, Jaime wrapped both arms around her waist and spun her out of danger. As the boy skidded across the linoleum floor, Jaime and Brienne collapsed against the Game Town wall; she taking the brunt of his weight. Brienne grunted at the pressure of his body on top of her and Jaime tried to remain professional in what was _clearly_ a life and death situation. _Oh,_ so she had gone back to using the lemon-scented shampoo. Nice.

“Was…that…” Brienne began, regaining the breath that he had knocked out of her. Her fingertips were clinging to his lapel; her gaze heady and meeting his in the short space between them. “…absolutely necessary?”

His voice, soft and full of unyielding care for the woman in front of him, simply said, “He could have been dangerous.” 

Her ocean-blue gaze darted to the young shoplifter. He was currently posing for selfies with the crowd while the Gold Cloaks tried to put the handcuffs on him. Brienne snorted, placed two warm palms against the breadth of his chest, and pushed him away. It was not the first time he had taken such drastic measures to protect the heiress. White Tower Security, after all, was known to go above and beyond for their clients. But it _was_ the first time he had seen a mild threat and acted. After all, during their first meeting where Brienne had pinned him to her conference room floor, she had made it _abundantly_ clear she could take care of herself.

“If you say so, _Jaime._ ” She gave him a knowing smile; her chest still heaving from the exertion of being thrown against a wall. Or, perhaps, the thrill of having him so close.

He gave her his most devastating smile. “Of course, Ms Tarth. _Anything you say, Ms Tarth._ ” Ms Tarth charged off, and Jaime had to quicken his pace to catch up with her. Soon he was matching her stride for stride. In so many ways, they were equally matched. Her desire to do her own Sevenmas shopping, however, was not one of them. “You know, you do have an army of employees who can do this for you.”

“Do what?”

“This!” Jaime waved his arm in the direction of two men arguing about the price of a bottle of Lys perfume; their voices carrying over the din. “You have _people,_ Ms Tarth. And even if you didn’t, there’s always online. You can have it gift wrapped and delivered right to your door.” 

Brienne stopped. For a moment, Jaime was hopeful she would heed his words, and they could head home for the day. It was a cold afternoon; the Citadel had predicted a harsh winter for the south. He could suggest a Sevenmas movie and hot cocoa underneath a blanket. _Her_ underneath a blanket; he would, _of course,_ linger nearby. Unless her feet needed protection from the cold and then he would be _more_ than happy to intervene. 

But, as he’d come to find with Brienne Tarth, she cared as little for his advice as she did his protection. “You don’t enjoy Sevenmas, do you, Jaime?”

“As a matter of fact, I greatly enjoy it.” In particularly mistletoe. “But not how it turns people into violent sociopaths who would cut off another person’s hand just to get a princess doll or a games console.”

“I don’t enjoy that part either,” Brienne admitted. “But it does give me great satisfaction buying gifts for my family and friends. Picking out something special for my father; my cousins. Watching their faces as they try to work out what’s inside. For me, it’s not about the money. It’s about the thought that goes into a gift. Giving someone your time to find something so meaningful.”

“Something singular.”

Brienne beamed. “Exactly.”

Jaime could understand the notion of _singular:_ he experienced it every day with the infuriating, _intoxicating_ woman he spent every waking moment beside. But her notions and traditions of Sevenmas were alien to him. He’d grown up in money, same as Brienne. But his family had always used a service to buy presents for each other. The extent of his _thought_ and _time_ was handing over his credit card details. All of his previous clients – the fabulously wealthy of King’s Landing – had used the same service. Brienne was the only one who had dragged him out Sevenmas shopping.

But while she cared little for his advice or his protection, Brienne did enjoy his company. “It’s not always fun, shopping like this. But it’s better with you.”

“A lot of things are.”

“You’re relentless.”

“Buy me a hot chocolate, and I’ll keep quiet while we visit the next _however many_ shops.”

Brienne snorted. “I might have to buy you a whole box of Sevenmas shortbread if sugar shuts you up.”

Jaime groaned at the prospect of _even more shopping_ but delighted in the hot chocolate Brienne bought the pair of them and the whipped cream that clung to her top lip. He was also happy to munch on shortbread biscuits while Brienne picked up a set of ugly festive jumpers for her honorary nephews; the manager recognising the heiress and closing the store momentarily while she shopped. Brienne flustered at the attention, turned to Jaime.

He just shrugged. “You cannot get this sort of attention online, Ms Tarth.”

After they had picked up the jumpers, they sampled perfume for Brienne’s second cousin Margaery; decided on gift baskets for Margaery’s brother, Loras, and his partner. A set of antique Sevenmas baubles was bought for Brienne’s oldest friend, Catelyn Stark; her husband gifted a crate of Northern craft beer. Their sons, Brienne’s honorary nephews, would receive the ugly festive jumpers. The girls, who Brienne was closest to, received different gifts. They descended upon an arts and crafts store and examined swatch after swatch of fabric as a gift for Sansa. In the Game Town downstairs, Brienne finally found an assassins game that Sansa’s sister, Arya, had wanted but her father deemed too violent. 

“Aunt Brienne gets away with murder, eh?” 

Brienne blushed. “She does.” At that point, a man with slick red hair and an unfortunate complexion tried to snatch the game from her hands. “Hey! That’s mine!”

“I don’t see a receipt, _bitch,”_ he spat. 

Jaime clenched his fists; putting his body between Brienne and this arsehole. It was not, perhaps, the desperate stand-off between him and Locke they had endured months ago, but it was a troublesome situation all the same. Brienne was under his protection, and he would not see her Sevenmas shopping experience _ruined_ by this _cretin_. “Walk away. That’s all I’m saying. _Walk away.”_

“Game Town doesn’t accept refunds, pretty boy. I suggest you return your bitch girlfriend elsewhere.” 

It was then that Jaime became one of the many, _many_ troublesome patrons of the Street of Steel Shopping Centre. His fist connected with Red’s nose; the sound of bone crunching lost in the swarm of shoppers and tinny festive music. A clerk in a grey polo came rushing over. It was more than the other shoppers did; several of them stepped over Red to pay for their goods. Jaime, in turn, handed the clerk Arya’s video game. 

“Could you ring that up for us, please? Brienne, give the man your credit card.” 

She wordlessly passed over her card. They stood, unmoving, until the young man returned with Brienne’s card and their bagged purchase. Smiling at the man, Jaime ushered Brienne through the crowd of shoppers and outside onto the walkway. She then turned on him; her eyes dark like a winter storm. _Fuck._ It seemed winter had come for them after all.

“Was that _really_ necessary?”

“Well, he was dangerous!” 

Rather than chastise him over knocking a man out cold in the middle of a Game Town, Brienne just laughed. There was a break in the clouds, and her smile shone through. “So, you admit the man earlier _wasn’t_ dangerous?” 

“I—” Suddenly Brienne was standing very close to him, and Jaime was _very_ warm. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Ms Tarth.”

“I’m implying nothing, _Jaime._ Just that you enjoy protecting me. Even if that means… _holding me._ ”

He swallowed. Everything had been reduced to Brienne standing in front of him. “What can I say, Ms Tarth? _I love my job._ ”

“Good. _Good._ ”

Her cheeks flushed the colour of holly berries, and Jaime felt the overwhelming urge to find something else he could protect her from. _Fuck._ Brienne’s teeth toyed with the plump flesh of her bottom lip and the yearning to protect her lips with his flooded through him. “Are we nearly done, Ms Tarth? I’d like to take you home as soon as possible.”

His words were lost on neither of them. “We, uh, we’ve just got one more present to get.” 

“I see.” He had rather hoped they would head home after the altercation at the Game Town and crawl underneath that blanket together. Perhaps he could argue that mistletoe was dangerous and Brienne should close her eyes and get close to his face while he dealt with the matter. “Do they _really_ deserve a present from you, Ms Tarth?”

Her chin wobbled; her bottom lip falling open. _Gods he wanted to kiss her._ “I don’t know, Jaime, do you?” 

He froze; his mouth unable to form the sounds required. “You’re–you’re getting me a gift?” 

“ _Of course_. I give gifts to everyone I lo—” Brienne sucked in a breath. “—everyone I care about.”

“ _Oh.”_

Brienne nervously tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. Jaime had witnessed her pin a man to the ground; had seen her fence and box and lift some considerable weight. But there was more to Brienne than muscle and bone. A romantic heart beat underneath her ribcage. He could hear it despite the loudness of the Sevenmas shoppers surrounding him; half a dozen Sevenmas songs flooding out onto the walkway. Or maybe it was his heart that he could hear. His romantic heart beating her name like it had the last seven months of their acquaintance. 

“I’m just a poor bodyguard, Ms Tarth.” That wasn’t true and they both knew it. “But I’m told it’s the thought and time that matters in giving a gift.”

She nodded. “It is.” 

“Then I’ve thought about kissing you. I’ve thought about kissing you every day for the last… _seven months._ Since the beginning, really. I’ve thought about kissing you soft and slow. I’ve thought about kissing you _hard_ and passionate.” He held her chin in his hand; his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Would you like your Sevenmas gift early, Ms Tarth?” 

“I—” Her hands tightened around his jacket lapel. “I was only getting you a tie pin.”

“That wasn’t a no.”

Brienne responded by brushing her lips against his. Jaime thought to counter with some cocky remark but, truly, lost all sense of thought at the sensation. Her lips were softer than he had imagined. She tasted of bitter tea and morning pastries; her fingers deft as they carded through his hair. Jaime wrapped both arms around Brienne’s waist and held her tight; unwilling to let even a sliver of air between them. He dimly heard their shopping bags collapse against the linoleum floor. No one paid them any mind.

When they pulled apart, Brienne’s face was split by a bright, shining smile. It widened every time Jaime’s fingers drew circles against the small of her back through her winter coat. “That was—”

“— _I know._ ” The best kiss of his life. Soon to be outshined by their second, and their third. “Definitely worth a tie pin.”

“Gift-giving isn’t a competition, Jaime,” Brienne said, linking her hand with his as she bent to pick up her discarded shopping bags. “But the pin is made of Valyrian steel.”

“ _Oh._ Well, in that case, there are _other_ things I’ve given some intense thought and time to.” 

Brienne elbowed his side; her cheeks the darkest hue he had even seen them. He kissed them both before stealing one from her lips. They then stumbled their way to the jewellery store where Brienne picked up her custom-made gift for her bodyguard now beau _._ Jaime then guided Brienne through the throng of people and into the waiting town car outside. He plucked a sprig of mistletoe from a nearby display and spent the journey home protecting Brienne from the plant. On the first day of Sevenmas, they exchanged gifts in bed.

The only thing Jaime wore that day was a tie. 


End file.
